Gemotions

A tremor, almost imperceptible, ran through Amelia as she read the words. The apology, carefully constructed, laid bare the years of silence. She placed the letter on the mahogany desk, its polished surface reflecting the afternoon sun. She didn't look at it again, not directly.

Instead, she turned her attention to the garden outside. The roses, in full bloom, were a riot of color, a stark contrast to the sterile white of the envelope. She clipped a few, the thorns pricking her fingers. She allowed a single drop of blood to fall, staining a pristine petal, before taking the shears and snapping the stems in two.

"Unbelievable," she murmured to the empty air, the sound brittle and cold.